


Professional Curiosity

by fringewrites



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Flirting, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 05:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringewrites/pseuds/fringewrites
Summary: Pavel opens up to Kirk about feeling weird being one of the few crew members that's circumcised. Kirk's never seen a circumcised dick in person before and his curiosity is piqued. The two work out an arrangement.





	Professional Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



> Inspired by a wonderful, amazing, ridiculous conversation with Theseus. Hope you love it as much as I've loved writing it, mensch!

“I’ve been thinking…” Chekov breaks the silence of the nearly empty locker room just after Kirk enters and opens his own.  Kirk looks around, and sure enough it’s only them.

 

“What have you been thinking, Chekov?” Kirk asks, pulling his shirt over his head. He stuffs it into his gym bag and listens to the metal clunk of Chekov closing his locker.

 

“It’s nothing, Captain. It’s…not appropriate conversation for us.” Chekov shakes his head, trying to dismiss his unfinished thought. His face is a little pink and he’s got his eyes trained on the floor.

 

“Chekov, you’ve been on my crew from the beginning,” Kirk points out pulling out a long sleeved black shirt from his locker and pulling it over his own arms.

 

“Yes, Captain,” Chekov agrees.

 

“And we’ve been through a lot since then…I’d say it’s safe to say we’re friends by now,” Kirk explains. He doesn’t miss the way Chekov looks up at him out of the corner of his eye. His expression seems eager.

 

“You think so?” Chekov asks.

 

“Oh, yeah. Plus, I’m off the clock. Drop the Captain stuff, buddy. Speak your mind.” Kirk encourages him, and it seems to put the wind back in Chekov’s sails.

 

“It’s just being here. The locker room sir. Morning and evening…it’s just,” Chekov still hesitates but Kirk gives him the go-ahead with a nod. “You know, I haven't seen a single other circumcised person around here."

 

Chekov looks expectantly at Kirk, and all he can offer is a blank expression. What is that? Like a piercing? "What are you talking about?"

 

"You know?" Chekov makes a pair of scissors with his fingers and makes a snipping motion across his groin. Kirk looks horrified.

 

"They...they do that in Russia?" Kirk’s memory is getting jogged. Yeah, he’s heard of the procedure. He’s always thought it was a bit of a 21st century kind of thing to do. He’s never met anyone that’s had it done.

 

"Just in the Jewish households." Chekov offers matter-of-factly.

 

"Why? How? What's it-" Kirk tries not to say that next question out loud. He doesn't want to invite in the harsh judgement that comes with the implications of asking a fresh faced eighteen year old what his dick looks like. There isn’t anyone there to judge, just his own unforgiving psyche, and Chekov of course.

 

"You're telling me in all your adventures, you've never come across a circumcised penis, Captain?" Chekov asks, grin kind of smug.

 

"That's...you're calling me… _me_ a slut?" James asks pointing to himself at the second me, as if to clarify their position in the conversation. Chekov shrugs. "You're getting mighty comfortable with how you speak to your commanding officers, Ensign." Kirk’s voice goes as firm as he can manage it.

 

"You just told me we were friends." Chekov points out. The little shit.

 

"I take it back," Kirk says in a hurried breath, feeling a little scandalized by having just been called a space trekking whore by his ensign. He doesn't mean it of course, and he knows Chekov knows this because he snickers behind his back as he leaves the locker room.

 

 

James Kirk was going to go to the mess hall and grab something to eat before heading back to his quarters for the night. He needs to talk to someone about this though, someone that can either sate his curiosity or will be willing to just hear him out as he laments. There’s really only one person that takes that job seriously, and he’s on second shift in Med-Bay.

 

 

" _You’ve_ never seen a circumcised penis?" Bones laughs. So much for taking it seriously.

 

"Don't say it like that!" James protests.

 

"Like what?"

 

"Like I'm a...you know...like I get around all over the galaxy." James pouts.

 

"YOU DO!" Bones bellows.

 

"I do _not_!" Jim complains before approaching his dilemma again. "I'm just saying... you've seen more penises than I have…you’ve gotta know."

 

"Yeah, because I'm a doctor. Not recreationally." Bones answers flatly, moving a blood sample onto one of the various scanners.

 

"It’s gotta be a little bit recreationally," Jim jabs at him. Bones slaps his hand away.

 

"I'm not gonna argue on my sex life here, it's a lose-lose." Bones sighs.  "So what are you looking for here? Charts? Diagrams? A father-son style talk? I don't think I can keep mustering those up for you Jim. It's not doing good things to my self-esteem. I'm only thirty six for Christ’s sake."

 

"I'm just... I've seen it in the old antique pornos, but since it became much less... popular, I've never seen it in person. I've seen it on non-humans, but they do things... differently." Jim’s eyes scan to his left as he recalls a number of encounters that McCoy doesn’t want to imagine.

 

“I…I can’t help you with _that_ , Jim. I’m _not_ …” Bones tells him, his voice low.

 

"I know _that_ Bones." Jim rolls his eyes.

 

"What the hell do you mean you _know_ that?" Bones is doing that thing where he yells at Jim at the volume of a whisper.

 

"We were roommates at the academy. What the hell do you think I mean by it?"

 

"Well I didn’t just assume that you were staring at my dick! Staring at your best friend’s dick, you don’t do that, Jim!" Bones hisses at him.

 

“Uh, that’s exactly what roommates do, Bones!” Jim snaps back.

 

"Doctor McCoy!" Chekov greets cheerfully. The both of them nearly jump out of their own skins when they hear Chekov’s voice. Kirk’s pretty sure his ears are burning. Chekov turns his attention to Kirk. "Hello, Captain." Kirk's not imagining that. There was a difference in tone there. He risks a quick glance at McCoy whose expression reads that yeah, he heard it too. That weird shift from the typical bubbly little Ensign to something suggestive…almost...flirty? Kirk looks to Bones for help, but the man is already pushing the eject button.

 

"I'll leave you two to your... whatnot." Bones explains and shuffles off to the right to fiddle with the machines. He’s out of the conversation, but definitely not out of earshot.

 

"Captain, are you alright? You look very pink." Kirk is sure he does. "You don't have a fever do you?" Chekov asks, voice sweet with concern.

 

"I'm absolutely fine, ensign. You uh…wanna get some food together?" Kirk offers. He needs to get away from McCoy’s judging eyes. He’s pretending to test blood samples, but when Kirk looks over, it’s clear that McCoy is having too much fun with Kirk being the one in the hot seat for once.

 

“Yes, one moment sir. I was hoping to confer with Doctor McCoy first.” Of course, Chekov came down to med bay for a reason. It’s not like he just showed up because Kirk conjured him up with the sheer power of humiliation magic. That’s ridiculous.

 

Jim isn’t sure what to do, so he lingers awkwardly while Chekov has an aside with Bones. The two talk in low tones over something brief. Then, Chekov is sidling back up to him and pointing toward the exit with his thumb. “We are going?” he asks. Kirk nods and the two take their silent walk to the mess hall.

 

 

"So...we're friends, you'd say, Chekov?" Kirk asks from across the table.

 

"I don't know, Captain. You made it pretty clear earlier that you're in charge of whether or not that's the case." Chekov explains as he unwraps his sandwich. Kirk is almost worried that he actually made Chekov mad at him, until the boy throws him a cheeky grin. "So what do you say? Are we friends, Jim?"

 

Kirk swallows the hard lump in his dry throat at the use of such a casual name from his ensign. "Y-yeah, we're friends Chekov."

 

"Then you should call me, Pasha," Chekov explains before taking a bite of his sandwich. There's mayonnaise on the side of his lip, he quickly licks it off before Kirk can agonize over it too much.

 

"Is that a nickname?" he asks knowing from his paperwork that Chekov's first name is Pavel.

 

"Kind of," Chekov is enigmatic and brief.

 

"Where's it come from?"

 

"My parents. My friends."

 

"How'd they come up with it I mean?" Kirk presses, tone going a little impatient.

 

"How do you get Jim out of James?" Chekov fires back. Kirk's neck goes stiff and Pavel lets out a hearty laugh at his expense. "The same way you get Dick from Richard...by treating him nicely."

 

This kid's gonna kill Kirk. He takes a breath. Chekov…Pasha, is a cool guy. Kirk’s not gonna get phased by the sass. It’s just because it’s different; it’s new. That’s where the nerves come in. That’s what Kirk tells himself.  “Speaking of that actually,” It’s a shitty transition. Kirk’s not even sure why he’s bringing it up. He should just drop it and count himself lucky that Chekov doesn’t think he’s a total spaz. He’s not gonna be able to say that about himself for long.

 

                “Of names?” Chekov interrupts the pregnant pause between them.

 

                “No, not of names. Of you know…” Either he doesn’t, or Chekov is really good at playing coy. God, Kirk really doesn’t want to have to say it outright. His eyes scan the mess hall. It’s not nearly as crowded as it might be in the afternoon. Most people take their dinners from their personal replicators. Still, in the cloud of people surrounding them, Kirk finds himself lowering his voice. “It’s just…really? Out of everyone on our shift? You’re really the only one?” Kirk asks.

 

                Chekov shrugs. “I’m afraid so, Captain. I assume at least. Some of our crewmates, all respect, I cannot make heads or tails of.” It makes sense. One can’t be expected to be well versed on the anatomy of every known species across the galaxy. They have a very diverse crew.

 

                “I just mean that statistically I figured…it’s a big ship!” Kirk points out almost disbelievingly.

 

                Chekov raises an eyebrow at that. “You suggest I scour the ship to find my match?” Oh, that’s not what Kirk meant, but now he can’t help but to imagine it. He needs to get back on track.

 

                Kirk clears his throat. “Has um…has anyone made you feel weird about it? In the locker room I mean? Is that why you mentioned it?” He can make this out to be a professional inquiry and get his senses together. He can get past this awkward hang up of his. He knows it.

 

                “There is some…harmless curiosity. It is to be expected. No one has made me uncomfortable, Captain. I suppose I was…curious.” Chekov looks embarrassed to admit…what is he admitting? Kirk’s brain feels like it’s processing everything Chekov throws at him in slow motion.

 

                “Curious about?” Kirk persists, watching Chekov pull the sleeves of his shirt over his knuckles.

 

                “Well, Captain. We don’t sign onto the bridge at the same time,” Chekov points out. Kirk’s throat goes dry. _Oh._

 

                “Well, I suppose I’ve effectively answered your question then,” Kirk offers helplessly. It’s a relief to an extent to know Chekov was as curious about his junk as he was about Chekov’s. He just doesn’t know what to do with that information.

 

                “I sense,” Chekov starts to crumple the plastic that his sandwich was wrapped in. When had he finished his sandwich? “That I may have left you with some questions, Captain.” Kirk’s pretty sure he chokes on his own spit then. Was he that obvious?

 

                “I..well…I mean…I’ve just never…you know? There’s, you wonder about these things,” Kirk tries to dig himself out of the moat that is being caught in his deviant curiosity of his younger crewmate. Chekov laughs, and he’s not sure if it’s at his expense or out of pity.

 

                “Perhaps, in the spirit of good old fashioned anthropology, we could trade some information?” Chekov offers, eyes gleaming with something very unsettling. Kirk thinks his brain might overheat.

 

                “I-I mean I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of...” he’s trying to avoid calling his own dick _normal._ He doesn’t want to offend Chekov.

 

                “Uncut men,” Chekov supplies in what Kirk imagines Chekov thinks is supposed to be helpful. He shudders.

 

“Please don’t say it like that,” he groans. Chekov giggles mirthfully. “I’m not sure what else about me there is to be curious about.” Why is Kirk sabotaging himself? Maybe it’s the last hurrah of his moral compass talking.

 

“Everyone is different,” Chekov explains casually. “I just figured if you wanted to see…”

 

“I want to!” Kirk blurts out embarrassingly fast. “I uh…I want to see,” Kirk admits and he feels like he’s going to die right there. God is going to reveal himself and smite him there on his own ship. Chekov grins wolfishly at him.

 

“Your quarters then? It should guarantee more privacy.” Chekov is being entirely too pragmatic about such a simultaneously obscene and juvenile exchange.

 

Kirk nods and the two rise from their seats at the table at the same time. Kirk feels exposed, like everyone is watching them leave together. He feels like everyone in the mess hall is watching him throw out his still mostly full tray and they know what he’s rushing off to do. He ducks his head down for the entire walk, trying not to visibly acknowledge the boy walking in step beside him.

 

 

The doors to Kirk’s quarters shut behind them. The lights flicker on around them, basking them in warm light. They really are alone now. Kirk isn’t sure how they made it this far. How did he let it get this out of hand? His mouth feels dry, like all the moisture in his body is going to his hands.

 

“Who should go first?” Chekov breaks the silence with what is likely the most awkward question of the evening.

 

“I thought we’d just…you know, at the same time?” Kirk offers clumsily. Chekov shifts from one foot to another nervously. Kirk’s glad he’s not the only one struggling to cash this check.  Nobody here wants to be the first, or to risk the other backing out. It’s delicate. “Come on, I promise. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” It feels creepy the moment it crawls out of his mouth. Chekov gasps and Kirk wouldn’t blame him if he ran out of the room right now, leaving him half hard.

 

Nevertheless, Chekov reaches for his belt, undoing it and pulling it through the loops before resting it on the table. He didn’t have to do that. He could have just unbuckled his belt and took down his fly for this, but he’s dragging it out. It’s like a reveal, like its curtain call. His shaking hands slowly lower his black pants and his boxers down his skinny thighs. One of his hands pulls the hem of his shirt up, just enough to reveal the light, thin trail of hair leading down from his belly button to.. _oh._

 

Chekov’s dick is soft where it lies against the sandy blonde curls surrounding it. Kirk has no idea how he’s maintained that when he feels like his own dick is gonna break his zipper. His eyes fixate on it, trying to really study and internalize it.

 

Chekov isn’t _small_ but he isn’t _big_ either. To be fair, Kirk might not be getting the fairest estimate, as he’s yet to see it hard. He wants to see him hard, he realizes. Kirk can feel how red he must be. Speaking of red, Kirk’s been staring at the head of Chekov’s dick the longest he thinks. It’s a dark, dusky pink. It looks strangely large at the end of his shaft. Kirk is used to seeing that part enveloped by his own foreskin. There’s no barrier for Chekov and there’s something…kind of hot about that.

 

“Sir?” Chekov clears his throat. Kirk isn’t sure how long he’s spent gawking at the poor boy, with his mouth wide open.

 

He tries to say something…reassuring. Instead he makes a pitiful request. “Can I touch it?” Chekov’s eyes go wide at that and Kirk immediately back-pedals. “I’m _so sorry_ , that was incredibly inappropriate. Forget I-“

 

“You can,” Chekov interrupts him “You can touch, if you like.”

 

“You really don’t have to say that. Like I said, rank, it doesn’t mean anything right now,” Kirk continues to explain. He wants that much to be explicitly clear to Chekov. He isn’t making the request as his Captain. That’s not who he is.

 

“I want you to,” Chekov admits breathlessly. Chekov’s freckled cheeks are pink, his pupils are large and dark. He looks…irresistible. “I want you to, Jim.”

 

Kirk nearly moans at the way Chekov says his name. He looks Chekov in the eye and nods, as though to warn him that he’s about to do it. Chekov still shivers when Kirk curls his hand around his dick, and all Kirk can think is, _cute._ Chekov and Kirk both look down between their bodies, watching the way Kirk’s hand explores the length of Chekov’s shaft. Chekov gasps at the way he slides into the warm, velvety curve of Kirk’s palm. Kirk thinks it’s the most beautiful noise he’s heard the boy make the whole time he’s known him. He feels Chekov getting hard. _God._

 

Sliding up, Kirk spends some time with just the tip of Chekov’s cock in his hand. He feels the weight of it. He closes his fingers in a tight circle around it and slowly spends his time jerking it, while Chekov shudders in his grasp. The head is smooth, and soft, and a little spongy when he squeezes it. It feels different than when Kirk jerks himself off. There’s no foreskin to roll over the surface of Chekov’s cockhead. It’s all exposed to Kirk’s hand, reliant on Kirk for pleasure. Kirk already knows that he wants it in his mouth.

 

Kirk feels dizzy as he sinks to his knees in front of Chekov. He looks up at the boy, and he means to ask him out loud. Before he can get the words out, Chekov’s fingers sink into the hair at the back of his head. His eyes close and he whispers _“Pozhaluysta.”_ Kirk isn’t sure what that means, but he thinks it’s something along the lines of _right now,_ given the way Chekov guides his face closer to his now fully erect cock.

 

Kirk presses his lips to the head of Chekov’s dick and slowly opens his mouth around it. His tongue reaches out to caress the cleft along its underside and Pavel full on moans. Kirk really likes the way the head of Pavel’s dick feels on his tongue. It’s got a good weight to it. It’s soft and firm all at once, and when he closes his lips around it, it feels right.

 

He wraps one hand around the base of Pavel’s cock, and properly takes the head into his mouth. Pavel whimpers as he spends his time leisurely sucking the top portion of Chekov’s dick. He’s entirely new to feeling the head like this, getting to swirl his tongue around it and feel the way his lips can close around the rim of it and suck. It’s heaven to him, he thinks. He could stay right there for days.

 

Chekov’s hips stutter as he tries to resist the urge to fuck into Kirk’s mouth. His knees are wobbling and Kirk can tell he’s on edge. Chekov is beautiful from below. The way he tilts his head up just slightly, eyes closed, mouth open in a silent moan is so overwhelming it puts a pool of molten lava deep in Kirk’s gut. He _needs_ to watch Pavel fall apart.

 

He takes Chekov deeper. In two passes he sucks him halfway down the base, and then to the point of being flush with his groin, practically nosing up at his lower belly. Pavel chokes on what sounds like _“Oh moy.“_ His fingers tighten in Kirk’s hair, knuckles jabbing into his scalp. It so good and it hurts, like Chekov is putting all of his focus and strength into pulling Kirk into him. He pulls off and takes Chekov to the back of his throat once more. The head of Chekov’s cock is so blunt against his throat, threatening to leave it sore in a way that appeals to Kirk more than it should.

 

Kirk pulls back once more. Before he can sink back down Chekov thrusts forward, control lost to his need. Jim moans around him and it seems to be all Chekov needs to stop holding back and being shy. Kirk meets the rest of Chekov’s thrusts, enjoying the way Chekov roughly probes the back of his throat, punctuating each thrust with a sharp, breathy moan. He can feel Chekov’s hands shaking where they’re tangled in his hair. God, he can practically smell how close Chekov is.

 

Pavel’s hips stutter into a halt and he’s nearly tearing Kirk’s hair out now. Jim can feel the tears pricking out the sides of his eyes. He forces himself to open them, to look up at Chekov so he can see him. He wants to see the boy’s eyes squeezed tight, teeth gritted as he rasps out needy, in warning. _“C-Captain!”_ Kirks eyes roll back in his head, his cock throbs as he feels his throat painted with Chekov’s come. He thinks he’s reached nirvana.

 

When Kirk finally opens his eyes, he pulls slowly off Chekov’s soft, spent cock. He swallows Chekov’s come and skates his hands up his thighs. Chekov is panting. His eyes are glazed over with lust and he looks like he may fall out. Kirk keeps his hands on Pavel’s body as he rises to his feet. They stay at his waist when he finally gets eye contact.

 

“I believe, is your turn to show me,” Chekov pants as he reaches for Kirk’s belt.

 

“Whoa, slow down there. I can get it out to show you.” Kirk laughs at how fast those shaky hands are moving.

 

“Is not show and tell if I can’t touch,” Chekov tells him with an almost predatory grin. Kirk could get used to that expression. Pavel practically tears Kirk’s fly open. He’s thankfully gentler when pulling Jim’s stiff, leaking cock from between the halves of his jeans. Chekov looks down between them as he works his hand up and down, pulling the foreskin over the head of Kirk’s dick. “Looks like an earthworm,” Chekov giggles.

 

“That is both mean and untrue!” Kirk protests cut to a low groan as Chekov tightens his grip around him toward the base. He lets Chekov push them backwards, until the backs of his knees hit the end of his bed. Kirk lowers himself onto his back, scooting up the length of the bed to make room for Chekov between his open legs. There’s hardly any space between the time it takes his neck to reach his pillow, and the time it takes Pavel to climb the length of his legs and wrap his mouth around Kirk’s dick.

 

 _“Pasha!”_ Kirk exclaims as he feels his head thrown back by the sheer force of pleasure. Chekov is unrestrained in how he sucks Jim’s cock. He’s eager and fast in a way that makes Kirk feel ridden by the tight heat of Chekov’s mouth. His fingers scramble for Chekov’s shoulder. He considers pushing the boy off him. He’d give anything to slow it down and to savor the beautiful boy’s wet, delicious, gift from God of a mouth. However, Kirk’s known that he wasn’t going to last from the moment he first got his mouth around Chekov so he lays back and allows the boy to fully ravage him.

 

“Oh! Oh my god, yes Pasha, right there _right there_ yes, so close fuck I’m close baby, Pasha oh God-“ Kirk’s heels dig into his mattress as he thrusts up to meet Chekov’s lips as they meet the base of his cock. His whole body shakes apart as he comes in ropes into Pavel’s mouth, and god that thought probably makes him come that much more.

 

Chekov is slow to unsheathe Kirk from his mouth. It makes Kirk shiver at the overwhelming sensation that comes with Chekov’s lips slowly relinquishing the tip of his dick. Chekov smacks his lips, licking the excess of Kirk’s come off of them. How has Kirk not kissed him yet? He needs to fix that.

 

Kirk reaches out for Pavel and the boy slowly lowers himself into Kirk’s arms. When their lips meet for the first time it’s soft and wet. Their tongues tangle and they can taste one another, bitter and sticky with the sex they just had. God, he’s just had sex with Pavel.

 

Pavel pulls off the kiss, and pecks him once more sweetly before resting his forehead against Jim’s. Kirk tries to look him in the eyes to see them half lidded. They move beneath the surface of the skin, thoughtfully. “Are we still friends, Jim?” Pavel asks, half flirtatiously, half genuinely.

 

Jim wraps his hand around the back of his neck and kisses him again.


End file.
